The Psychoanalysis of Benjamin Weir
by Tibki
Summary: Dramatic and kinda angsty, because there's just not enough of that in this fandom. Season 1 centered, after Double Negative: Sarah confronts Benny about something she heard. It's been making her think, and she wants answers. She may regret that decision. T for nonexplicit reasons inside. Sarah-Benny Friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, long time no see!**

**I wrote this a while ago when I was in the middle of my MBAV-kick, sometime last year. I've actually got this like 63-page document sitting around labeled 'Shorts' that holds a bunch of One-or-Two-Shots and uncompleted Bunnies, and its from that that I brought out _'Kangaroo Cry'_ and _'The Psychoanalysis of Benjamin Weir'_.**

**This is set just after 'Double Negative', is AU for the second season I _think_ (I haven't watched it yet, I need to get back on the MBAV train), and should count as a Two-Shot. It's also probably a tiny bit OOC for Benny, but at the same time, I think its one of my best description-wise. But anyway, that's for you guys to decide, not me.**

**Oh, and one more thing-despite this being the '_Psychoanalysis of Benjamin Weir'_, I know nothing of psychology. I wrote Sarah as someone who did, though, so if you know anything about the subject and find some problem, I'm sorry. Feel free to point it out and I'll see if I can fix it. Thanks!**

**Warnings: mentions of child abuse. You decide what kind, I don't write anything explicit.**

**Disclaimer: Feels kinda good to be writing these again after such a while. Anyway, Don't Own, Don't Sue!**

* * *

Sarah slowly braked, letting the vintage car roll itself into the driveway halfway down Orchard Lane and to the right of the one she most often drove into. Like the house next to it, the one she more often visited, it was a triple-level built nearly 100 years ago with dark brick and darker shingles. The house was reminiscent of the, nearly ancient in comparison, Georgetown brownstones less than a hundred miles away in D.C., in the dark, elegant way it seemed to almost loom above the street.

The 17-year old sighed and turned off the ignition, leaning against the smooth, soft, warm leather of the seat behind her. It was amazing how alike the sons of the Weir and Morgan families were. Both were dorks, both loved videogames almost as much as their families, both were admittedly impressive with their weapons and technology, both had dark hair, both lived in homes that seemed to fit better in _The Salem Witch Project_ rather than a peaceful, quiet suburb.

Both Benny and Ethan seemed to be growing fairly quickly when it came to their respective magics, at least, according Old Lady Weir. Sarah herself didn't know for sure, as she only talked to them occasionally. She _did_ have a life outside of black magic and vampires, despite what it seemed.

But unlike Ethan, who had a vision nearly daily and sometimes even complained about the way they injected almost rudely into his everyday life, Benny very rarely used his newfound powers. He spoke and bragged about them often, for sure, but rarely did he ever pull out his book and utter the spells written out in it. Normally, he kept the magic he held himself within his fingertips unless it was for "good" reason, like the fall-on-your-face spell he'd cast over nearly 40 girls to get himself and Ethan into the cheer squad. Admittedly, those reasons often had doubling backings, like watching the cheerleaders as they practiced and afterwards, but if perverted teenage hormones alone were enough to light a fire under his spellbook, there would be a lot more magic flying around White Chapel.

Sarah groaned and lifted herself from the seat, twirling her keys around her finger as she climbed out of the red car. She walked forward a few steps before stopping near the hood, leaning against the slightly warm metal and gazing up at the house.

It was a cool October evening, one that reminded you that Halloween was on the rise. It was the kind she'd adored when she was just another _Dusker_, staring wide-eyed into the feeling of the short moments before the dramatic change of events in a story and hoping against all hope that she would enter the vampire fantasy of her dreams.

The moon was nowhere near full, appearing as a razor-like sickle in the sky, almost impossibly sharply defined on its very edges. Just staring at it made it seem ready to slice into you like the wind actually was, carrying the smallest bite a breeze could contain, with the promise of more to come with the colder winter months approaching. Her jacket was a necessity now, not just a fashion statement.

Besides the cold silver radiance of the moon, the only sources of light were the two houses near her. It was fairly late in the night, but even if they hadn't noticed it, the boys had become partial night owls, more in tune with the darkness that empty space rained upon their side of the Earth for the final 12 hours of the day. She assumed it was their connection to black magic, how even despite their status as human beings, they still used the dark energy, ran off of it, and therefore lived in it almost as much as their non-human friends.

Ethan's bedroom lamp was the only one on in his house, but in the Weir residence, two windows were glowing with man-made light; Benny's room and his grandmother's secret kitchen. Old Lady Weir was probably finishing up a brew or something, probably to make up for the one Benny had used on Puffles and every other dearly departed demon creature two weeks ago.

Sarah sighed and looked up at the soft orange glow coming from the window at the very top of the Weir house, her mind switching back to the reason she'd come.

Benny didn't use his magic for anything but what most people would consider _real_ reasons. But that wasn't like the boy; he was show-offish, braggy, and even a jerk sometimes when it came to things he had. He meant well and beneath the exterior, she _knew_ he was a good guy—the negative of his soul had been a flirtatious, evil jerkwad, after all, which meant he, as its opposite, had to be decent—but still. That was how Benjamin Weir usually acted. The whole thing about his magic stirred Sarah the wrong way.

After high school, she was planning on entering college and becoming a therapist or psychoanalyst or psychiatrist or something along those lines, helping people with problems that few others could, with problems that had solutions in talks and releases. Sarah had been working for the last four years on her goal, signing up for courses in science to find out how the brain worked, English to get a better grasp on how to think, and history to see how the greats thought, whether they were insane or brilliant or insanely brilliant.

She'd read psychology books and even talked to a few philosophy and psychiatry professors her father knew through his days at university. Sarah was a smart girl with a 4.0 GPA and hopefully a scholarship to a great school, at the end of the year, and already knew a lot about the field she wanted to enter. But more importantly, even if it had only been a month or maybe a month and a half, she _knew_ Benny Weir and that particular trait was _not_ how Benny Weir acted.

Sarah took a short but deep breath and steeled herself, walking up to the front door of the house. She could vaguely make out some sort of pattern in the concrete of the porch, probably some spell Old Lady Weir had put up ages ago, and hesitated only for a moment—what if the spell were against vampires?—before rapping sharply on the wood three times.

"I got it, Grandma!" Benny's voice called from inside, completely ignorant or careless about their sleeping neighbors.

Sarah only had to wait a second before the door opened and Benny's beaming face appeared, looking down at her. To be honest, she found it _infuriating_ that a boy three years younger had nearly six inches on her.

The nearly mad grin Benny almost continuously kept on his face didn't falter a bit at the sight of his senior vampire friend, but she could read the hint of confusion in his eyes as he realized who it was.

"Oh, hey Sarah," he said. "Is, uh… something wrong?"

"Hey Benny. No, nothing's _wrong_, exactly, I don't think…" She winced and looked up at him. "Would you mind if I came in?"

Benny realized how rude he was probably being and stepped aside. "Oh, yeah, sure," he said, sweeping an arm forward. "Come on in. The Weir house always has room for more."

Sarah nodded in thanks and walked into the house. Though it had been built at nearly the same time as the Morgans', the Weir house followed an almost entirely different set of blueprints. There were more bedrooms, mostly used for storage and guests, from what she had gathered, but the actual living spaces like the den and bathrooms were a little smaller.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting out of Benny's house, to be honest. All she really knew about the Spellmaster was that, well, he was a Spellmaster, he had been Ethan's best friend since basically their births, that his grandmother _rocked_, and that he was a mega dork.

Some part of her had seen his house as being filled with memorabilia of sci-fi movies and series, posters and models hanging off of every surface and life-sized simulations watching you from every corner with eyes that were flat and dead but seemed to be so alive and just plain creepy.

After learning about his grandmother, ancient features like a wood burning fireplaces and locked cupboards were added to the scene, with dried herbs and spices hanging among the spaceships and pictures. Tables would be filled with scrolls of crusty old spells and odd objects as well as his prototypes and souvenirs. The place would've been utter chaos.

She knew she was thinking biasedly, but she couldn't help it. Sarah actually didn't know much about the Weirs, so she couldn't honestly guess how they would decorate the house they lived in.

Still, though, what she did see was strange. Even, no, _especially_ for a family like the Weirs'.

It was all too normal.

White and a deep brown seemed to be the main colors of the entire house. To her right was a living room holding the most-overstuffed snow-white couch and chair set she'd ever seen in her life, a long antique wooden coffee table, and a worn red Persian rug on dark wood floors. The fireplace had been pained stark-white, a natural wooden mantle just above the opening that was edged with a mirror mosaic and had a large painting of a smiling family with a much younger Benny above it.

As far from the entrance as possible in the room was a large wooden entertainment center, holding an enormous plasma TV, DVD and VCR players, an Xbox, PlayStation, and Wii, and what seemed to be a hundred DVDs and videos. Surrounding the entertainment center was a wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with books ranging from new paperbacks to ancient leather tomes.

To her left was the dining room, also in white and brown. A crystal chandelier hung over a mahogany table covered in a white lace cloth, reflected in a mirror on the end of the room connecting with the state-of-the-art kitchen (from what she could see). Three framed, dried flowers hung on the wall behind the table, different from the white lilies sitting in the vase under the lighting fixture.

It was… nice. _Very_ nice. And _very_ high end.

"…Sarah?"

Sarah jolted and spun, looking at Benny's slightly concerned face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You're not getting visions too, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I just… didn't expect it to be like this."

Benny nodded, as if understanding. There were moments when Sarah was amazed about just how quickly he could grasp a situation or figure out someone's thoughts, usually in between those moments when she found him purely insane and the ones where he was too weird to think about.

This wasn't one of these moments, however. "Yeah, I know, it's a mess," he admitted. "Grandma and I've been trying to clean it up lately, but she's busy with the final stage of her new revival potion. Has to be done under a crescent moon. So I've been focusing on my room and working down from there."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "That's… not what I meant, but… you're working all night to clean your house?" Something was definitely wrong there.

Benny smirked slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a long story," he replied. "But what did you mean, by different from what you expected?"

She shrugged awkwardly. "Well… it's looks really nice." Benny's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "No, no, I mean…!"

To her surprise, he began chuckling. "Relax," he told her, "Ethan said the same thing when he first came over. Course, he was six, so he said it outright rather than trying to dance around it." Sarah blushed slightly. "My mom's an interior designer. She travels a lot, fixing up people's homes, you know."

"Wait a second." Connections were made in Sarah's mind and surprise crossed her entire being. "Your mom is… _Alyssa_ Weir? As in, _From Alyssa's Home to Yours_?" Benny nodded, turning slightly pink. "Benny! My mom and I watch that show almost daily!"

He nodded again. "Yeah, a lot of people do," he admitted. "My dad's the producer and director, too. They make a great team." Benny put his hands in his pockets and looked around the hall awkwardly, as if afraid to look directly into Sarah's eyes now that she knew his family was famous. "So, uh… if you're here to see Grandma for something, you're gonna have to wait a bit cause she told me if I bother her for the next few hours she'll transform me into a barn animal, and I don't exactly think I'd like being a donkey."

Sarah smiled—that sounded _exactly_ like Old Lady Weir—and shook her head. "No, actually, I, uh, came here to see you."

Benny blinked at her in surprise and burst into an enormous grin. "_Really_?" he asked, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Well, then, babe…"

_Ew!_ "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sarah said, waving her arms. "Cool your jets, lover_dork_, that's not what I meant." Benny's face fell back to his normal look. "I wanted to talk to you about something. You know, have an actual conversation?"

Benny frowned but nodded. "Okay, what about?" he asked, leading her into the living room. Sarah seated herself on one of the white armchairs while Benny stretched himself out lazily on the couch. It was almost exactly like she saw herself ten years from now, having clients laid out while she sat and listened to their problems.

"Well, you know how even fledgling vampires have some… superhuman abilities?" Benny nodded. "Like when I was running superfast to find you and Evil Benny." He nodded again, motioning for her to continue. "Well, another power I've got is… super_hearing_." He blinked at her. "I can hear whatever's happening in the rooms around me if I really try, and I was really trying while I was running."

"Ok…?"

"So I heard what Evil Benny said to you in the bathroom."

Benny cocked his head at her, not understanding. "And it started to make me think. He said you didn't have the stomach to use your magic. I couldn't help but notice that I honestly would've expected you to use your powers a little more… frequently, and not just for the reasons you've been using them for. I'm just wondering… why _don't_ you use your magic all that often?"

Benny was normally a cheerful and carefree guy. The only time she'd seen him with a straight face were the rare times when things had gone seriously bad within a space of seconds. But now a completely separate expression had come to light.

The once-flushed face suddenly turned paper white and Benny narrowed his eyes in a _glare_ at her. Sarah did a double take. _Benny_ was _glaring_ at her. It wasn't a horrible glare, more like an overly suspicious gaze, but that didn't make it any less disconcerting.

"Benny?"

"No offense, Sarah, but I don't see how that's your business," he replied, polite but nearly frigid, both things she did _not_ expect from him. "When and for what I use black magic is _my_ decision."

Sarah quickly gathered herself. She could _not_ be thrown by Benny's first defenses over his secrets. "It's my business because, no matter how annoying or weird or dorky you are, you're my friend and I watch out for my friends." He looked at her, probably deciding whether to be insulted or touched. "I may have only known you for a month, Benny, but I know enough about you to know that you _should_ be a lot more reckless with your magic. I'm thankful you're not, don't get me wrong, but _something's_ holding you back."

Benny frowned and sat up. "Look, Sarah, I appreciate your concern, but you're right. You've only known me for a month. Maybe I take some things more seriously than others."

"If that was all, your evil twin wouldn't say that you don't have the stomach for black magic."

The boy snorted. "What did he know?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Exactly as much as you, since he's your exact negative." Benny blinked and scowled at his defense being torn down. "Benny. I swear I won't tell a soul. You're my friend and I want to know what's making you… change your… normal way of doing things, when it comes to your magic."

Benny sighed. "Look. I appreciate it, Sarah, I really do. But it's a personal thing and I don't…"

She held up a hand. "Benny. I'm looking into psychiatry for college and a career. Have been for the last few years. Pushing stuff down, especially if it's 'personal', is really really bad for you. It'll bottle up and then bring serious consequences. The last thing White Chapel needs is a Spellmaster dealing with serious consequences on his own. I promise not to tell anyone, _especially_ since it's personal." Benny hesitated and Sarah saw her chance. "Come on, Benny. I just want to help. I want to be a better friend to you than I was to… than I was to Erica."

Benny looked up and met Sarah's eyes at that. Sarah ignored the pain of regret and sorrow she felt just from mentioning what she'd done to her best friend, and the world the girl had been shoved into because of it. Benny knew just as much as the rest of them how much she loathed to bring it up; hopefully, he'd see her mentioning it as a sign of sincerity.

"…Fine," he grumbled. "But you have to _swear_ not to tell _anyone_, _ever._ It's something I haven't told a single person in my entire life."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I've already said it _twice_." The boy looked at her seriously. "Fine. I swear I won't tell _anyone, ever_."

Benny nodded seriously. "Good. You'd better keep it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The, uh, reason I don't really like using black magic…" Sarah leaned forward. "Well, uh… you see… it's like this…"

"Come _on,_ spit it out already!"

"It's my parents!"

Benny automatically slammed a hand over his mouth, as if shocked he'd actually said it. Sarah sat back in her chair, surprised. His _parents_? She glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. Mr. and Mrs. Weir looked like smiling, normal people in the painting. She had short black hair in a sharp, straight bob cut and sharp cheekbones and chin. He had thick brown hair that was growing white at the edges and the same slightly crazed blue eyes his son possessed.

They looked like a perfectly happy family, but she knew that wasn't always the case.

"Your parents?" she repeated. "What about them?"

Benny sighed. "It's a long story, but Mom is totally and one hundred percent _against_ anything even semi-unusual. And Dad, even though he was raised by _Grandma_, Earth priestess extraordinaire, thinks all of it is a total waste of time." He shook his head. "They have this… kinda extreme view of me, as a perfect, normal, well-behaved son who's focused on his schoolwork and not much else."

Sarah stared at him. "But that's not _you_," she told him.

He chuckled humorlessly. "It used to be," he replied darkly. "I can still remember it. Seven years ago, when Ethan and his family moved next door. I was the child they always loved, the perfect son. I was the smartest in class, would rather be inside reading than playing outside, and was pretty great at soccer. Heck, I even had blonde hair!" Benny smirked at Sarah's astonished face. "It switched over a few years ago," he explained. "The entire neighborhood knew me as little Benjamin Weir, the kid with the best of everything. Best clothes, best bike, best grades. I remember, a lot of people hated me for it.

"I didn't know any other way to live except sitting alone in my room reading. I'd barely heard of friends. We didn't have a TV or anything, just books. I thought my parents were always completely right, you know, like little kids think, and never questioned them. I just went with the flow."

Sarah stared at him, too busy trying to fit the image of Benjamin Weir with the Benny she knew. It wasn't going well. Benny smiled and continued. "Then Ethan moved in next to us. We were the first ones to welcome them to the neighborhood.

"When I met him, I didn't know what to think. He was wearing a _Star Wars_ t-shirt and Spiderman shoes. I remember because he nearly fainted when he found out I didn't know what either of them were.

"After that, I got the only 'best' thing my parents didn't give me—a best friend. Every time I went over to Ethan's, he'd introduce me to a new sci-fi film or series or give me comic books to study once I got home. I'd hide them in my books, or read them under my covers while my parents thought I was asleep. I thought they were _amazing_, even though I had to hide them. And then, when we had business partners over, if I accidentally let something slip, our guests would say something about a great imagination and my parents would be ecstatic.

"That all changed when Ethan gave me a _Galactitac_ poster and DVD set for my 7th birthday. I hung the poster up on my wall and started watching the series on the TV my dad bought after a work buddy of his wanted to watch a football game at our place. I was so happy, I was imagining my room completely decked out with sci-fi stuff and the shelves filled with the sets, and then…"

Benny sighed. "My parents found out. They tore up the poster and threw away the DVDs. They told me it was unrealistic and that I should stick to reading. It was nothing but fantasy and I was wasting my time liking them."

Sarah gaped at him. "It's not a waste of time, Benny," she assured him. "Not everyone may like it, but that doesn't make it a waste."

Benny chuckled. "Try telling that to my folks," he replied. " 'Conservative' doesn't begin to describe them. Anyway, it took every bit of begging and promises I had to keep them from forbidding me from hanging with Ethan. Luckily, he and his parents came over for dinner a few days later and they passed my parents' inspection.

"After Mom and Dad started _From Alyssa's Home to Yours_ the year after, they were gone a _lot_ and Grandma started taking over raising me. She didn't ground or scold me when I got alien and wizard stuff. She even bought me a couple _Star Wars_ things for Christmas when my parents sent me Charles Dickens and fleece socks from abroad."

Benny grinned conspiratorially up at Sarah. "Benjamin Weir died off completely about five years ago and Benny W. was born in his place. The thing is, though, that my parents aren't aware of that little fact. They still think I'm their perfect son."

His grin fell slowly, melting from his face like the life from a flower wilting in front of a high-speed camera. "I don't like lying, especially to family. That was one of the virtues Mom and Dad drilled into me at a young age, and one of the few I still have. I'll do it if it's necessary, but no more than that. Unfortunately, it's necessary for a lot of stuff—most of the stuff I like, for one. I have to pretend to be Benjamin every time they come home or else I'd be in major trouble. And, just to add to it, perfect little Benjamin wouldn't get mixed up in vampires and everything, so I have to lie about that as well—course, I would've anyway, but still. I hate lying to my parents. So I'm controlling the lie about magic in the only way I can. You can't help being a fledgling, just like Erica and Rory can't help being vampires and Ethan can't help having his visions. But I _can_ control how much magic I use. If I use a less magic, it's a smaller lie. If I use more, it'll get bigger and worse and worse."

Sarah nodded as Benny finished, taking a moment to absorb his story. If she was working out of her texts, she'd say that a childhood led by over-estimating parents holding a _very_ short leash led to a will to please and that in turn led to a personality split once they left and gave his grandmother the reins. He no longer had to be 'perfect' to please anyone and his grandmother wanted him to explore the things he loved, to be _Benny_. But when his parents came back, his will to please kicked in and he returned to Benjamin.

"So you hold back on your magic because you don't want to lie to your parents?"

Benny nodded. "But it's not just that," he replied, "they'd hate me if they found out." Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious! All my life, they've told me, 'don't get into magic, Benjamin' and 'deals with the devil lead to dark lives, Benjamin' and 'I hope you know, Benjamin, if we ever catch you drawing Pentagrams or runes or trying any of that devil-worshipping black magic, that we'll put you out on the street'. I'm not kidding. My mom said that to me, the last time I saw her before the whole Jesse fiasco."

"Well, she might've said that as a threat—you know parents never go through with those kinds of threats," Sarah suggested hopefully.

Benny shook his head seriously. "No. Not my mom. She'll go through with it. She has good reason to despise black magic, anyway…"

Sarah leaned forward. "Really?" she asked. "Why?"

Benny's eyes grew huge and his mouth closed with an audible _clack_. He blew a breath out of his nose and closed his eyes. "_That_, Sarah," he told her, the icy tone in his voice back, "is even more personal and is _family_ business."

Sarah smiled and decided to play off of a hunch. "Family business?" she repeated. "So the entire family knows?"

Benny flinched. "So they don't," she decided. "How can it be family business if no one else knows, Benny?"

"Because however much of a friend you may be, you're not _family_ and it's none of yours?" Benny supplied.

"Oh no. You're not getting out of this that easily. It _is_ my business because your mother's rejection is what's scaring you away from progressing as a Spellmaster." Benny shook his head and continued to do so as she kept speaking.

"Your fear of rejection is keeping you from learning spells that might one day _save_ our _lives_."

"No—"

"It's _your_ fear that might be responsible for our deaths one day, for my death or Erica's or Rory's or even _Ethan's_."

"No, just—!"

"Do you want to be responsible for your best friend's death?"

"No!" Benny almost shouted, still shaking his head. "No, I-I…!"

"Then tell me why your mom hates magic so much so we can—!"

"_It's because of Grandpa!_"

Benny's shriek echoed around the house several times. Sarah grew silent as he looked at her, unshed tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "It's because of my Grandpa," he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse. "My mom's Dad."

Sarah stood and moved onto the couch next to him. "It's okay, Benny," she told him gently. "Take your time."

Benny took a deep breath before starting his story.

* * *

**They did not go into Benny's family at all in the first season, and I was left curious. The conclusion's in the next chapter, which is where my earlier warning _really_ starts to apply. Those of you who are wondering over Mrs. Weir, who I hope I managed to convey as a more modern woman, and her belief/hatred in black magic, just hold on. All will be made understood then.**

**Until next time, my friends,**

**PEACE**

**~Tibki**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's part two!**

**Minor recap: Benny's starting his story about why his mother dislikes the very idea of magic.**

**Warning: mentions of child abuse (see earlier warning); angst and tears and all of that good stuff.**

**On with the story!**

* * *

"It was less than a week after the _Dusk_ premiere," he explained. "Grandma had sent me into the basement to clean up a little. There's all kinds of magic stuff down there, mostly normal stuff you'd never guess was magic until you found out, but there's a couple obvious things too, the stuff she keeps in the basement because Mom and Dad won't go down there so it's safe.

"In one of the backrooms was some kind of crystal, shaped like a soccerball, you know, a circle with lots of flat edges? Found out later it's made from selenite, the Seer's stone. It's kinda milky white and it's put into medallions. Well, when its touched by someone with black magic, the white milky stuff starts going all cloudy and can sometimes let them see things. I found that out the hard way.

"It was a crystal ball, and it let me see my… my mom's childhood." Benny wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Mom lived with her dad and her dad alone for her entire life. Her mom died in childbirth and after, Grandpa went a little crazy.

"First, you gotta know—you remember how Grandma once said I could make a First-Rate Spellmaster one day?" Sarah nodded again. "That phrase wasn't only a compliment. There are ratings of Spellmasters, and First-Rate is the highest. Only certain Spellmasters can ever make it to First-Rate… and those are usually the people with magic on both sides of their family."

Benny nodded at Sarah's wide eyes. "Grandfather Puckett was a Spellmaster too," he admitted. "Pretty strong one, too. I looked it up, the lineage goes back pretty far. The problem was, after Grandma Puckett died, his mind… broke. He started using his magic for… other reasons. Reasons involving my mom." Benny's eyes took on a gleaming sheen, horror and pain hidden behind blue depths. "I-I'll never be able to forget…"

The boy cleared his throat and switched trains of thought. "He used his magic… afterwards… to make her forget. She still doesn't remember. But she still has a fear of anything magical. And I can't really blame her, because I _saw_ his face in that crystal ball and I… I was scared too!" His fists closed on his knees and he clenched his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. "But—but not just because of what he did, but because I've got his magic from his side of the family, and, and…"

Sarah wrapped her arms around the younger boy. He didn't accept her embracement, exactly, but his one of his hands moved to her wrist and held on tight as he struggled to compose himself. Benny's shoulders shook so hard they nearly seemed to vibrate, but no more tears fell.

She moved one of her arms to rub circles into his back, her mind unwillingly playing the image of Benny watching, decades in the future, as a tiny girl with long black braids looked up into a monster's face, his hands reaching out to grab her, as he used the black magic that was running through his grandson's veins for indescribable horrors—the very memories of which caused the boy to flinch away from his lessons and full potential.

Mentally, she cursed Grandfather Puckett wherever he was, whether he was lying in a bed, gutter, or coffin, and promised herself to sink him six feet into the ground if he ever showed his face near White Chapel.

"Sorry." Benny's steadier voice and his straightening back brought her out of her vehement thoughts. He wiped his eyes and smiled shakily at her. "Sorry about that, I…"

"Needed to let it out," she finished. "Do you feel any better now that it's off your chest?"

He nodded hesitantly. "That's good. Now, I want you to think about something." Benny looked at her curiously. "Evil Benny," she explained, "_threatened_ to use his magic against you." He nodded. "He threatened to _attack_ you," she added. "Threatened to _hurt_ you."

"Yeah, so?" Benny asked, his voice far more normal than Sarah had expected this soon after a breakdown. "He was a jerk in pleather."

"Think about it, Benny. He was literally the polar opposite of your soul. Since _he_ threatened to use his magic to _hurt_, and he's _your_ opposite, what would _you _do?"

Benny frowned, deep in thought for a moment. "Threaten… to help?"

Sarah chuckled. "Not exactly," she replied. "You wouldn't threaten at all. You'd _never_ threaten to use magic against someone. And I know you'd never, _ever_ throw the first punch. You wouldn't use magic until they used it on you or your friends." She shrugged. "Or, if you did threaten, it'd be someone really evil and even then it wouldn't be a really scary threat anyway."

"Hey!" Benny bristled at the insult. "I can threaten just fine!" Sarah raised an eyebrow and he simply glared at her.

"The point is," she said, "you're way too good a person to ever use your magic for anything but the defense of good. And you're not your grandfather. His blood and magic may run through you, but what you use that blood and magic _for_ is _your_ decision."

Benny smiled slowly. "Y-yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks, Sar."

Sarah winked. "No problem, Benny. So you'll be okay with using magic a little more often from now on?"

He smirked, standing. "I'll work on it. Hey, wanna see something cool?"

"Does it have anything to do with anything dorky?" she asked. However, she stood as well, giving him her reply nonverbally.

"Yes and no," he admitted. "C'mon."

Sarah followed the boy up the stairs, passing by doorways that led to closets, bathrooms, and bedrooms. He kept walking past the entire second floor and went up the flight of stairs at the end of the hallway, leading them both into the third floor loft.

He bypassed that area as well and made his way to a door in the very corner of the room, one that had 'Benjamin' stenciled onto it in bright blue paint. "My parents are coming home," Benny explained to Sarah, who had her eyebrows raised. "That's why we need to clean the house. The season's taping is over and they have a few weeks before they have to go on tour, you know, all those charity events HGTV makes them do." He opened the door and pushed it inside, revealing his room to her. "Welcome to Benjamin's room."

Sarah glanced at him before stepping forward.

The walls were painted a bright baby blue that had probably been put there when he first arrived from the hospital. In the center of the room was an immense bed covered in white and brown striped sheets. A dresser with a mirror and a charging laptop sat on one side of the room, while a bookshelf filled with old books and what looked like a heavy rock. A Juliet bench sat in front of the window overlooking the street in front of the house and a soccerball and cleats lay at the foot of his bed.

"Wow," Sarah said, looking over it. "It's…"

"Nice?" Benny suggested with a smirk. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but it's also not _Benny_."

Benny nodded. "Yup. That's because, like I said, it's _Benjamin's_ room. Not Benny's." He smiled at the girl next to him. "Remember how you said I'd use magic to defend people and keep secrets?" She nodded. "Well, I've got a couple secrets to keep from my parents, don't I?"

Benny held out a hand for her to see, palm to the ceiling. Miniscule bolts of purple lightning burst from each of his fingertips, meeting squarely in the center of his palm to create a small purple spark. He closed his fist around it, shook and blew on it like a gambler would a die, and tossed it into the center of the room.

The purple light exploded underneath the light, causing Sarah to wince and turn away for a moment. When she turned back, however, her mouth fell.

"Welcome to Benny's room," Benny said with a grin.

The baby-colored walls had been replaced with dark blue paint, scrawled on with thin, yellow handwriting she recognized as his. Stars, Pentagrams, Circles, and runes covered every space not filled with gibberish words she assumed were spells and quotes from his movies and TV shows and comics.

The dresser was still intact, but now held an extreme assortment of objects ranging from the models and souvenirs she'd first expected to metal shapes and objects that had to have some magical purpose, because there was no other explanation for them being there. The laptop still sat, charging.

The bookcase on the other end had grown tremendously, expanding to cover all the space against the wall in front of from the floor to the last 3 feet from the ceiling, broken only by the bathroom and closet doors. The books that had been in Benjamin's room were sitting on the top shelf of the enormous case, gathering dust, probably untouched since they were received. Below them, looking well-thumbed, were huge tomes and scrolls, labeled with the runes she often saw Old Lady Weir writing in, and hundreds upon hundreds of tiny objects from his dork obsessions.

His bed, once a large, wooden framed one in the center of the room, was now a platform bed pushed to the side, nearly up against his dresser. Underneath it was a workdesk and a computer with enough space to hold two people and a new window that _definitely_ hadn't been there before.

On the wall above his mattress, surrounded by golden writing, were his normal vampire-hunting weapons, hung on racks carefully placed to be attainable at any moment. The Nerf and Holy Water blasters hung beside each other while the light saber's cord extended from its base down to the plug next to the computer. Just above the saber was what seemed to be actual samurai swords, sheathed and held gently above where his head would be.

By the original window, the Juliet's bench had disappeared, replaced by a wooden podium holding his leather-bound spellbook and a semi-circular shelf containing vials and bottles filled with all sorts of different colored liquids. Hanging from the ceiling were two tiny models of the Starship Enterprise and the Millennium Falcon, seemingly headed for a collision course but held back by nearly invisible fishing line.

In the very center of the room, where the bed had once sat, was instead a very bare wooden floor. Squinting at it revealed a large shape written onto it in black sharpie, a circle holding four other circles and a five-pointed Pentagram.

She turned and gaped at Benny, who was smiling happily at the room. "You… did this?" Sarah asked, stepping backwards and gazing at the collection of posters hung on the walls she'd stood in front of. "Benny… it's amazing!"

He shrugged. "Construction spells were pretty far up ahead in the book," he admitted. "It only needs a beginner Spellmaster to do it… and luckily, that's what I am."

Sarah shook her head. "Give it a couple months," she replied. "If this is what you do with a beginner spell, you'll be First-Rate in no time." Benny flushed slightly.

Suddenly, a loud, beeping ring tone cut through the room. Sarah swore under her breath and hunted through her jacket pockets, finding her cell phone and excusing herself before checking the text.

"My mom wants me home," she said with a sigh. "Sorry, Benny, I've gotta go. It was nice talking to you."

Benny smiled. "Yeah. Nice talking to you too."

She brushed past him and turned around in the hall just before disappearing from sight. "Don't forget what I said about your grandfather," she told him. "And if you ever want to talk… you have my number."

He nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Sarah."

She smiled and nodded before leaving the house and driving home.

Grandma Weir watched the young vampiress leave with a satisfied smile on her face. Sarah wasn't interested in her grandson, more so in Ethan, actually, if she had to guess, but it was nice that Benny had a friend besides Ethan now.

She'd heard every word of their conversation. She was old, not deaf. And she was fully planning on putting a hex upon the soul of Lawrence Puckett, whether it be on Earth or the beyond, for what it had done to her daughter-in-law.

* * *

**I love the idea of kick-a$$ Granny Weir, can I just say that? I think, if I knew my grandmother better-she speaks a different language and lives across The Pond, in Eastern Europe-I'd compare them. She reads tarot and takes no shist from anyone.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think! Is it too OOC? Or maybe out of touch of the tone of the show? Find a mistake somewhere? Or maybe it's awesome? Only your reviews can tell me, people!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**PEACE!**

**~Tibki**


End file.
